


Into My Arms

by SoapyWaters



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoapyWaters/pseuds/SoapyWaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Emily spent her late teens and twenties believing Paige hated her. When she moves back to Rosewood after a bad break-up in her early 30s, she finds Paige has changed. For the better? Read to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry - this is not new but I've been bored lately so thought I'd dump my existing fics here as well as the other place, complete with original notes (unless they're irrelevant)
> 
> Hello all. So, new fic. This story just... bear with me with it. It's my first ever plot-driven fic and it's T for now but might eventually be M depending on how I feel.
> 
> It's AU and in it, A never existed. Ali did die but of natural causes when they were all 14. Emily came out of the closet of her own accord when she was ready, and that wasn't until she met Maya when she was 18. As a result, the "Don't tell" kiss never happened because Paige didn't realise Emily was gay until much later.
> 
> It's set many many years later when they're all 30.
> 
> Please review

This morning is my first time back in Rosewood's public swimming pool since I left for college 12 years ago. It's actually the high school's pool and it's full of memories for me from my high school swim team days – this is the pool I earned my scholarships in, the one I trained in for years, the first place I really felt I was good at something. For 8 years, I'd been swimming at the gym opposite the flat I shared with my girlfriend in Chicago until we broke up 2 months ago. My one doubt about moving back to Rosewood was that there used to not be a public pool here, but thankfully the school decided to earn a few extra dollars by opening this one up to the public at weekends. I'm definitely going to be grateful as the weeks go by – I'm pretty sure I'd go mad if I couldn't swim at least twice a week. I took the first opportunity I could get back in the water – it's the first Saturday I've been back in Rosewood and I've arrived at the pool in time for them to open the doors in the morning.

Luckily for me, swimming has always calmed my mind and for the first time since I got back I am no longer worrying about the list of unsatisfying options for my future running through my mind. All I have to do is keep moving, keep sliding and let the water hold me up. I swim non-stop for a good 45 minutes, keeping a steady pace and barely noticing anyone around me. I'm in the empty fast-lane for most of it, grateful that most swimmers in Rosewood are elderly people trying to keep active and not serious swimmers like the ones at the gym back in Chicago. Towards the end, I am vaguely aware of a figure joining me in the fast-lane but whoever it is has the decency to stick to roughly my pace and touches down at the opposite end of the pool at the same time as me.

When I've had enough I come to a rest and lean back against the wall of the pool, pushing my goggles up to look around. Most of the elderly swimmers who were here when I started have left, replaced by one or two housewives in the middle lane. The mystery swimmer in my lane is making her way to my end of the pool and I wonder if she might be an old team-mate of mine; she's swimming very well and has good form as she slips through the water with ease. I start to feel uneasy when her form becomes uncomfortably familiar and she reaches me at the same time as I become certain of who it is. She comes to a halt beside me, rising up out of the water which tumbles off her face like something out of a Bond movie. I feel like my heart is in my mouth and my stomach is on the floor at the same time as she performs a double-take at me after taking her goggles off.

"Emily?" she asks, full of curious innocence.

"Hi, Paige" I say, trying to keep my cool. I haven't seen this girl since high school graduation; the last I heard she was in New York for college.

"I didn't know you were back in Rosewood."

"Yeah, I just got back on Monday. I'm staying with my parents for a little while." I say, avoiding her eye and hoping she's not about to ask me why.

"Oh. Well, looks like you've kept in shape. Most people in Rosewood can't keep up, I couldn't figure out who it was sharing my lane." She says, that old McCullers competitiveness evidently still present.

"Hah! That was nothing, just a relaxing morning swim." I say, striding easily into our old faux-arrogance. Paige smiles at me with the first real smile I've seen her give me in twelve years and for just a moment my heart soars. I keep myself in check though and try to not let it show just how pleased I am to see her and just how relieved I am that grown-up Paige isn't as scared of me as teenage Paige was.

"How long are you in town for?" she asks.

"I'm not sure. A while. What about you?"

"Oh, I live here. I moved back after college to be near family." She replies, leaning back against the pool wall with me. It feels very easy chatting to her like this, like old times. But then silence falls and she doesn't seem particularly interested in continuing our conversation and I cannot for the life of me figure out something interesting to say next. She looks like she wants to keep swimming but doesn't know how to get out of this awkward situation without being rude so I offer her a way out.

"Sorry, did you want to carry on swimming? I'm pretty much done anyway, I was just gonna go have a shower."

Paige nods and looks away, clearly grateful that she can get back to her morning workout. I silently kick myself for being so pleased to see her since clearly nothing has changed after all and I want nothing more than to get away from Paige now before I do my fragile emotions any more damage.

"Okay, well maybe I'll see you around?" I say, more out of politeness than a genuine belief that we'll be friendly next time we see each other.

"Yeah, I'm sure we will. It was good bumping into you." She replies back just as perfunctorily. I nod and climb out of the pool, making my way hastily to the changing rooms. I take a long hot shower and wash my hair with an assortment of shampoos and conditioners specially picked out to prevent my hair from being too damaged by the chlorine – I've found it's a lot of effort but the end result is worth it. I get dressed quickly but then have to spend a disproportionate amount of time drying my hair until it's wavy and glossy like usual. Just as I am about to finish Paige walks in, squeezing the excess water out of her hair. She comes to a halt as she sees me, clearly surprised that it's a good hour later and I still have not finished getting changed. She gives me a fake smile – one that unfortunately I know very well – and walks over to open her locker. It occurs to me as I watch her that we have both accidentally used the same lockers we did when we were at school. Actually, I suspect that Paige never stopped using that. I frown at myself in the mirror and wonder why on earth I care about the lockers when she clears her throat and turns to me.

"Hey, Emily, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go for a catch up coffee sometime? I'd like to know what you've been up to." I am wary now because Paige doesn't seem to have changed at all – she's still giving me mixed signals, sometimes seeming keen, other times seeming to want nothing to do with me but I am helpless under those big brown eyes and of course I say yes. She starts talking about times and locations and somehow we agree to meet at my old coffee shop at 2pm this afternoon and then Paige is gone, disappeared in the direction of the showers. I am left standing there like a lemon, still holding the hairdryer I have long since finished with. I put it down and gather my things before making a bee-line for my car and driving home as quick as I can.

The rest of my morning is spent fretting about the afternoon. I don't want to get into a fight with Paige but I've never managed to understand exactly what it was that went on between us and I'm seriously curious to find out. I also realise that I have no idea what she has been up to since she went to New York and I remember that I care about her a lot and I hope she's happy, so when I arrive at the Brew I am full of curiosity and hope and totally open to whatever I'm about to find out.

I spot her sitting at her favourite table, early as usual, nursing a latte. I wave at her and go to the counter to get my own drink, thankful that the barista doesn't know me or try to engage in conversation. I sit down next to her and the awkwardness returns as we realise that neither of us know where to start.

"So…" we both say at the same time, breaking the silence and falling over each other in the effort.

"You first." she says.

"No, you first," I say.

"But I was just going to ask what you have been doing since high school, so really it's you going first." She makes a good argument so I fill her in. I tell her about college, about my 8 year stint as a PA in Chicago, about my 8 year relationship with a girl I met at the end of college that just fell apart. I tell her that I'm in Rosewood staying with my parents to get back on my feet again. I tell her far too much considering the fact that we haven't been friends since we were 18 but for some reason I want to open up to her. I spent such a long time not telling her the important things when we were kids and it had such disastrous results that I just want to be an open book for her now. I keep talking until I get embarrassed and feel like she must think I like the sound of my own voice and finally I brave a question of my own.

"So what about you, McCullers? What have you been up to?" I feel like I've asked the question innocently enough and she dips her head like she does in my memories and looks bashful before answering.

"It's Ackard now, actually." She says simply, not meeting my eyes. I have no idea what she means.

"Sorry?"

"Ackard. Paige Ackard. Not McCullers." My mind rushes at a million miles a minute as I process this. Paige is married, married to a man whose surname is Ackard. Sean, I think. Hanna's ex. Paige has married Sean Ackard.

I've never been very good at hiding my emotions but for once I am desperate to keep a straight face, to react the way anyone might when they find out their old best friend is happily married. But in reality I feel like the ground has been swept away from under my feet and I have a sudden hatred for the guy I always thought was so nice and, nastily, I think that Paige Ackard has a horrible ring to it and then I feel terribly guilty for projecting my own fantasies onto her. What was I thinking?

I recover enough to smile and politely inquire as to how that came about – I never knew they knew each other. Paige informs me that they always knew each other because Sean is the minister's son and her father has always been involved in the Church and after she moved back from NYC their parents set them up on a date and… yeah… they got married 4 years ago. I try so hard to wrap my head around it and continue to ask normal questions.

"Kids?" I say nonchalantly, although really I am very curious. Part of me desperately wants to believe that Paige is happy, and I'm sure she'll make a great Mom, but part of me knows it's gonna sting if the answer is yes.

"No, not yet. Sean wants them soon but I'm not really ready." For some reason I take comfort in that although I am not sure why at all and then I completely run out of things to say. I sit there in silence, a fake smile plastered on my face. Paige takes a deep breath and launches into something it seems like she has wanted to say all afternoon.

"Look, Emily, I'm really sorry for what happened between us in school. I said a lot of very hurtful things and it took me a long time to realise that I had no reason to say them."

"It's okay," I say in a very small voice because even though she does owe me an apology, this is not the one I want to hear.

"No, Emily, it's really not. Actually, it was Sean who made me realise how wrong I'd been about you. About the whole thing and I thought about it a lot after we got together and I've been meaning to get in touch with you to say sorry but I never got around to it. So anyway, I am sorry. I don't really think any of the things I said to you and it was unfair of me to treat you any different for being who you are." Paige sounds very level headed as she lets it all out and I suppose in a way I am grateful. I nod and smile at her, and then try to sound genuine as I accept her apology.

I suddenly feel very down about the whole experience because it fully crushes any hope I have that the homophobia Paige directed at me when I came out was secretly because she felt for me what I felt for her. It seems like it was just simple homophobia and now she's over it because Sean – sweet, good-natured Sean – has turned her into a moderate. I should feel happy. I should feel vindicated that this high school friend of mine has finally accepted who I am and that, as they say, it got better.

So why do I feel heartbroken? I guess it's because this finally answers the questions I've always had about Paige, and puts my feelings squarely in the unrequited box. We finish our coffees in relative comfort as we talk about this and that – how the town has changed, what Aria, Spencer and Hanna are up to these days – until Paige glances at her watch and remembers she's supposed to be meeting Sean in half an hour. We say our goodbyes and go our separate ways and I try, desperately, to forget all about Paige Ackard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, thanks for the reviews/favs/follows. Really makes me excited for writing the rest of it.
> 
> Cici, Sazar and MindFullofStories - yeah, the name is cringeworthy isn't it? It looks so so wrong. Paige Awkward? Never thought of that, but very apt!
> 
> Cici and Del - Emily is scared of Paige for good reason and i'm hoping this chapter will explain a lot of it.
> 
> Everyone else - please bear with Paige and the story. I know she is coming across as a not very nice person at the moment and if you'll remember that is how we first met her in season 1 but look at where she is now - she's Batman! So in this, I promise that she gets better.  
> And finally - special thanks to anotheranonymousartist for encouraging me and proofing this.

The following day I go back to the pool early in the morning and hope that Paige does not decide to turn up again. I am on high alert the entire time, though, and when I get to the end of my normal 45 minute swim a very stupid part of me decides to spend an extra fifteen minutes there just in case. It's so crazy of me to hope she's not there and then try to make it happen anyway but I never said that I was a rational human being.

When it starts to get late, I force myself to get out of the pool and go through my usual hour long shower/hair drying routine. Paige doesn't turn up in the end and I leave, wondering whether she has actively decided to go in the evenings because she knows I will go in the mornings. After the pool I go home and have Sunday lunch with my parents. My Mom has cooked a special meal as it's my first Sunday back home and part of me feels like a massive failure for being 30 and living at home. I am aware that I haven't lived at home since I was 18 and that this is only temporary but I still wish things hadn't ended up this way. I think about all the stupid choices I've made in my life to end up here, all the sacrifices I made to be with my most recent ex to the detriment of my career that meant I was left with nothing when it fell apart. I start thinking about what I'm going to do next until my Dad notices and, as usual, jumps in to rescue me.

"Honey, don't beat yourself up," he says to me in that way he has, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. I fake smile at him and my Mom looks awkward because, no doubt, they've talked about my recent funk and haven't agreed on a way to go about fixing me yet. "I was thinking we could go through all your old stuff in the garage today, Em. It's been sitting there for years and I've been meaning to clear it out."

My Dad knows that the best way to sort me out is to make me physically active so clearing out the garage is a perfect distraction. I nod enthusiastically and we eat dessert which, as usual, is excellent. After, we change into sweatpants and baggy t-shirts and begin lugging boxes around and peering into them, hoping no family of mice have moved in. We sort through old trophies, old year books, notebooks, novels, a box full of goggles I had apparently decided at some point to make a collection out of (teenagers do the weirdest things). We find my old pairs of Converse All Stars and I squeal happily at them, like they're old friends, but my Dad insists that I really do not need a box of battered shoes and I reluctantly throw them out.

We're making good progress when he comes across a box full of smaller, prettier boxes and I realise it's my box of letters. I have kept pretty much every hand-written letter I have ever received and filed them away into sub-categories for safe-keeping. There's a Spencer, Aria and Hanna box – this one will be full of ease and silliness and good memories. There's an Ali box – this one has plenty of silliness and ease in content too, but is sad to read anyway because they abruptly end when we're 14. There's a boring one full of letters from family, and a box labelled Maya St Germain. And then there's a Paige McCullers one, and when I see it I know that as soon as I am alone I will be reading those letters because I am a sucker for punishment. I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to sort as quickly as possible because I really want to read those letters in private – not just the ones from Paige but especially the ones from my three best friends because they are sure to cheer me up. I throw out a lot of stuff and feel pretty good about it by the time we're done, make my excuses and head up to my bedroom to tuck myself into my window seat with a blanket.

I read Spencer's first, because they are hilarious without meaning to be. Then I read Aria's which are sometimes kind of boring and at around the 18 years-old mark become essentially a love story named Ezra Fitz. Hanna's are hilarious too but they at least are supposed to be, and they're often written with the express intention of cheering me up so I read them with delight. I decide to skip Ali and Maya's because I really don't want to confuse myself even further but with the recent developments I really cannot resist reading Paige's.

The first is from when we are 13 and it's quite short and to the point. She wrote it not long after we became friends because I asked her to write me a letter to read on the plane I was taking to go visit my dad. I had asked all of my friends to write me something to read as I tended to get nervous when going to see him, always thinking the worst of what I would find when I got there. I found that the letters were a really good way of distracting myself. This is Paige's effort.

_Hey Emily, don't really know what to say in this letter for ya. I know you said you wanted something funny to make you laugh so here goes:_

_Why are pirates called pirates?_

_Because they arrrrr!_

_Okay, that was totally lame I know but I dunno what else to say. I hope you have a great trip anyways and enjoy seeing your dad. Paige xx_

I smile at the memory of reading it for the first time on the plane. It did actually make me laugh, largely because of how bad the joke was and because I could imagine Paige struggling to write it before putting that in to make sure that she at least had something to say.  


I read through a few other letters, some that were meant to be read on the plane, others that were spontaneous and I can see our friendship growing. By the time we're sixteen she's rambling on at me in her letters for pages about absolutely nothing at all, occasionally dropping in sentences that confused me at the time and still confuse me now.

_Because don't you think it's so weird that we have such a strong connection and at first we didn't even like each other at all? Sometimes I think about why I didn't like you and it's so weird because, really, what's not to like?_

I remember vividly now our first meeting and I cannot help but smile about it even though it was horrible. It was so silly; we became enemies at first blush. It was a normal Monday morning in the middle of the Fall semester and in walked Paige with her severe bangs and her head low and introduced herself to our teacher at the front of the classroom. She was placed at the desk behind me and, being the lovely creature that I was at the time, I turned around at the first opportunity to introduce myself. For some reason that I never found out, she took an instant dislike to me and was incredibly rude, making that awful face that teenage girls make when they don't like something. I was so taken aback that I was speechless and blushed furiously red and forgot to defend myself or try to charm her in any way. After that, she continued to be rude to me and I gave as good as I got – I never talked about why with my friends but for the next year insisted to anyone who asked that I thought that Paige McCullers girl was really mean.

The next sentence that stands out to me is in the letter directly after the last, which I notice is a reply to one I sent.  


_Actually, on that subject Em, I was thinking about when it was exactly that we became friends. I know it was when we both joined the swim team but what do you think did it? I remember seeing you in the pool and being so impressed by you that I completely forgot we were supposed to be enemies._

I stare at that last line and wonder again what it was about me - other than my times - that she was so impressed by. I remember looking at that line aged 16 and wondering if she was impressed by me in the same way I was impressed by her. At the time I hoped against hope that she was and that maybe she was trying to hint at me but now, well, I guess it was wishful thinking.  
I read through the rest of our glory days and each letter has an odd sentence or two that taken out of context could be romantic. By seventeen she is positively gushing about how much she adores me, about how glad she is that we are the best of friends, about how she feels like she can tell me anything. I know now that she actually did tell me everything – there was no big secret crush that she wouldn't admit. And then I get to us aged 18 and the letter that I have been dreading but the one I know I cannot resist is next and I see the smudged ink and the frayed edges and I can pretty much recite it from memory but I read it anyway.

_Emily,_

_I really don't know what to say. I don't know how I can see you in the same way ever again. It's just so wrong, it's always been something I felt was wrong and I feel like that Maya girl is just taking advantage of you. On the one hand I am so worried about you because I really care about you and I want you to be safe but on the other I cannot sit by and watch you do something that I know deep down is wrong._  


_Emily, please consider what this means for your life. Please think about the hard decisions you are gonna have to make if you continue down this road. You won't be able to lead a normal life (isn't that what you want?) and what will your family think? Have you thought about that? Have you thought about God, either, because He thinks it's wrong too. I was thinking about this earlier and I think if you wanted to try to change my father could help you, he knows some people who have had the same problem and have managed to turn it around and be normal again. I really want to help you and get back the Emily I know._

_But I've also got to tell you that if you don't want to change or if you really feel like this is you then I cannot continue to be your friend. My Father wouldn't allow it for starters and I can't disobey him. And although in a way this will make me incredibly sad because (here there is a line or two of scribbled out writing that is almost impossible to read until...) you are my best friend and I don't want to lose you, there is no other option for me._

_So I guess this is goodbye for now and I hope you will make the right decision. Please know how hard this is for me._

_All the best,_

_Paige McCullers_

I look at the section that has been scribbled out so well that I can barely read it. I spent an awful lot of time in the past trying to decipher it and I'm pretty sure I know what each word is. It says:

_you are the only person who has ever known the real me and the only one who has ever seen past the wall I put up for everyone else_

I think about that section and still wonder who exactly the real Paige McCullers was and what the hell she meant by it. Now that I know she's truly straight I can put aside any thoughts that it's because she was secretly a big homo and as soon as I think that I feel myself getting angry and sad. Paige was just a bigot all along and I was a fool for reading into things again and again.

I think back to how I reacted at the time. I was pretty angry then too and horrified that I had chosen Paige as the first person to tell my secret to. The weird thing for me was that several years before we had had a conversation about homosexuality and both decided it wasn't something we would judge other people over. I seriously thought she would be fine about it – actually, I thought she might turn around and say "me too" – so receiving that letter came as a huge shock. And then I don't understand how, if you truly are scared for someone's safety, you would cut ties with them completely – surely if you were genuine about what you were saying you would try to stick around to make sure they were okay?

I sat on it for two days before Spencer realised something was up and forced it out of me. I told her the whole thing – my first kiss with Maya, my true feelings for Paige, the fact that I'd known I liked girls for pretty much ever, my slight crush on Ali and then I broke down and choked out everything that Paige had said. Spencer reacted in classic Hastings fashion and offered to destroy Paige for me if I wanted, reassuring me at the same time that she at least didn't think I was wrong to my core. I was so grateful to her in that moment that I knew we'd be friends forever and ever since she has been the one I turn to when it comes to Paige. I came out to Aria and Hanna the same day and received the sort of response I'd expected from Paige – they both essentially said that I was Emily their friend regardless of who I was dating and that they were glad I was comfortable enough to be honest with them.

It's evening by the time I finish thinking all this through and my Mom calls up to me to remind me that we are going to the movies in half an hour. I try to shake off my lingering resentment over Paige and decide that the old way is probably the best way. I call Spencer and arrange to see her for lunch tomorrow, knowing that she at least will be able to see all of this objectively.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> del, Cici and Nae10 - you will just have to wait and see if Paige is telling the truth about how she feels. None of it is going to be from her POV apart from any letters she might send so it's all what she chooses to tell Emily. I'm not saying anything else.
> 
> pailylover - the letter is definitely written by Paige. All the letters are written by the people Emily thinks they are written by.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter. More coming soon.

I meet Spencer the next day at a little coffee shop down the street from her workplace in Philadelphia. As one would expect from a Hastings, she has done very well for herself and made partner in her law firm last year. She was unbearably smug about it for a while but I think we can forgive her considering she's spent the last 29 years working her ass off to get what she wants. I admire her, really, because she has the sort of focus I've never managed to develop as far as my academic or professional life is concerned.

She walks in wearing a grey power suit with a pencil skirt and looks as sharp and impressive as ever. Every time I see her these days I have to resist the urge to tell her she looks like her Mom did when we were kids because Spencer can be pretty scary when she's pissed at you. She pulls me into a tight hug even though she already saw me the day after I got back to Rosewood so it's not like we've been separated for long. I appreciate the hug anyway and recognise the familiar smell of Spencer Hastings – coffee, the same perfume that she has worn since she was 14 and success. She gets the coffee and sneakily grabs a cake to share and we sit in the corner to catch up.

"So what's up, Em? It's not every Sunday you call me out of the blue and demand that I give you advice."

Now that I am here I can almost not bring myself to say it – Spencer spent a lot of our eighteenth year hearing about Paige and Maya and her line was always that I should give up on Paige and focus on the girl who actually wanted to be with me. The fact that Maya ran just as hot and cold as Paige was never something Spencer registered, much to my frustration. She looks at me expectantly and sips her coffee-with-two-extra-shots. I force myself to start as I mean to go on.

"I bumped into Paige the other day at the pool." I say. Spencer looks totally surprised that this is where I am going – the last time we saw each other I spent a lot of time talking about my failed relationship so I guess she thought it would be more of the same.

"Paige McCullers?"

"No, actually, Paige Ackard. She married Sean." I say, probably looking just as awkward as I feel.

"Seriously? I always thought he was gay after the way things went down with Hanna," she says and of course she has no idea that that really does not help my current frame of mind. I quickly fill her in and tell her about our coffee meeting after the pool and about re-reading her letter and how I feel sort of angry at her.

"I don't blame you, Em. We all stood by you and didn't let stupid prejudices get in the way and look how it turned out – we're all just as close as ever. That girl couldn't put your feelings in front of her stupid obsession with pleasing her father. I never understood why you liked her in the first place." Spencer's line hasn't changed in 12 years, I see.

"I know you didn't," I say in quite a small voice because we've been through this before, "you never knew her like I did."

"Yeah, I guess not. But I think maybe a lot of what you thought you knew about her was wishful thinking?"

"No, it wasn't like that. We did have a genuine friendship, even she admits that. We had so much fun and talked about everything and she was different around me. Softer. Less defensive." I say, feeling awful because now I am remembering all the good things about being with Paige and thinking about the two dozen times we'd fallen asleep together and how warm and comfortable that had been.

"Okay but even so – talk about fair-weather friend. Once things got a bit difficult she bailed and we had to pick up the pieces."

I don't have anything to say to that so I keep quiet.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

"Lots of things," I say, "but I think I just want to finally put it to rest and move on. I kind of wish she wasn't in Rosewood actually because I don't want to bump into her anywhere."

"Yeah, I understand that. I guess you'll have to be civil with her and not let it get to you. She apologised, you know where you stand and that can be the end of it."

I don't reply again because what's really going through my mind right now is that I kind of want to get into a fight with Paige about the whole thing and take back my acceptance of her apology.

"I mean, the thing is, I begged her, Spencer. I begged her to be my friend again. I was so sad when she said she couldn't stand to be my friend and I was so scared of losing her. I just couldn't let her go, not after losing Ali the way we did. But she was so adamant about it and even though I pretended to not believe it, I honestly thought it was because she had feelings for me. And now I find out she's just a cold-hearted bitch. I feel like shouting at her!" I say, uncharacteristically angry. Spencer looks at me with such open sympathy that I feel sick for a moment – one thing I don't need is her pity.

"Em," she says and I look at her and she realises that she has no idea what she was about to say. She pauses for a moment to think before coming up with something, "you could say something to her but I don't think it's going to get you anywhere, she's just going to say sorry again and you're gonna both feel upset about it and nothing will have changed. She can't go back and change anything and you have to let it go."

Spencer's right, I suppose. As far as Paige knows, the apology she gave me the other day was pretty simple and I accepted it without much fuss. If I bring it up again she might end up asking why I've suddenly changed my tune and I guess I don't want to be in a position where I might have to admit anything to her. I resign myself to putting the whole thing to rest for good (again) and thank Spencer for hearing me out.

"It's okay, Em, that's what friends are for," she smiles at me, "and besides, you've had to listen to all my boy drama too. It's a reciprocal relationship." With that, the subject changes and we talk about the new guy in her life. As usual he's not what you might expect of a Hastings – her parents have never understood why she always goes for the carpenters and ball boys – but she just can't resist them. This one is an artist, which makes a change, a guy she met at a museum opening in the city and ended up back in his loft with after one too many glasses of champagne. We talk it through until her coffee is drained and she thinks she should probably get back to work. She gives me another hug before she leaves and I can sense she hopes I have taken what she said to heart – I'm sure she doesn't want to be hearing the same things all over again next week. Just as she's about to walk out of the door she turns to me one last time.

"You know you're worth a lot more than her, don't you Emily? Even if she had wanted you back, she never deserved you," she says, shaking her head slightly.

I fake-smile at her but can't bring myself to respond because, truthfully, I don't believe her even a little bit.

Later in the afternoon I decide to go for a run in the hope that it will clear my head. Usually I would swim but with the pool only open to the public at weekends, I have to resort to the woods. These woods are pretty familiar to me as they were a regular hang out with my friends when we were growing up. I think this was the location of our first foray into the world of alcohol too, and it's possible we ended up stumbling around in the dark frightened out of our wits by the spookiness of the woods at night. At any rate, there's a regular trail I can run and I have plenty of excess energy so I'm off with a spring in my step.

It works for a while and I can feel my mind clearing as I breathe in the crisp Fall air with my feet pounding the ground in time to the music blaring in my ears. It all comes falling down when I turn a corner and nearly crash face-first into none other than Paige Ackard née McCullers. Great, I think, she would be running at the same time as me. Just my friggin' luck. We swerve out of the way of each other and both manage not to fall over. She smiles at me as she regains her breath and my brain goes completely blank as I take in the sight of her in her jogging gear covered in sweat. We're both officially in our thirties now and I guess some of our peers are starting to let themselves go a bit, especially the ones with kids, but Paige is in great shape. She's wearing black lycra running shorts and a figure-hugging sports shirt that shows off her well-defined arms and the curve at her waist. I realise that I am staring at the same time as I realise that I am supposed to be mad at her and force myself to look away.

"Hey, didn't see you there," she says, "how's it going?"

I hastily try to regain composure and tell her I'm fine but all of the anger of the past few days starts to boil to the surface as I fight the urge to ask her what the hell kind of person she is. She is completely oblivious and looking at me like I am just an old school buddy she was fond of once.

"It was nice catching up with you, Emily. If you are in town for a while it'd be good to see more of you. There are so few of the old crowd around these days…" she says, still oblivious. I search desperately for a way to say no without being rude but resort in the end to my usual method of simply not replying. The silence becomes so awkward in the end that I cannot stand it and my brain yells at me to stop talking as I reply.

"Yeah, you're right. That would be nice," I inwardly cringe as I say it but then Paige looks so genuinely happy that I forget how betrayed I felt 10 minutes ago. She seems different to the Paige I remember when last we were friends. The fear she seemed to feel when it came to me is no longer there and she appears so grown up that I wonder whether this new Paige might actually be someone I could be friends with in the same way I am friends with Spencer, Aria and Hanna. Look, I know that 30 seconds ago I was checking her out and that I don't do that with my other straight friends as a rule but old habits die hard.

She starts jogging on the spot to keep her heart-rate up and asks if I'd like to join her on her run since she sometimes gets kind of lonely running alone. I wonder for a minute if Sean ever runs with her and wish, as I have often wished over the years, that I could just say no to people easier. I turn my iPod off and shove my earphones into my sweatpants pocket, mentally kicking myself for getting into this situation.

"I wonder if you'll keep up," Paige says to me with a twinkle in her eye. Ah, I think, there's the Paige I remember. I can't help but slip into my old role too.

"Paige, you don't need to wonder – you'll be eating my dust soon enough," I reply, my lips curling into a small, but definitely real, smile.

"Yeah, right," she says as she takes off with no warning in the direction I was going. I curse myself for letting her get away with a head start and set off in hot pursuit. She's fast, I think, maybe a little too fast and although I put on a spurt of speed at the start to catch up with her I cannot maintain her pace. I soon start to fall behind and that makes everything even worse as I am now essentially chasing her ass, which I can't help but notice is perfectly toned. I try to look at anything and everything else but seriously, the woman is hot and I am only human. I'm pretty red in the face already from exertion but I'm pretty sure even standing still there'd be a pink blush creeping up my cheeks from this view. She glances back at me and I try to pretend that I wasn't looking and she grins at me wickedly. I think for a minute she's caught me out but then she starts to taunt me.

"What was that about eating your dust, Fields?" she has a very fair point and I know there's no use arguing.

"Yeah, you're clearly fitter than me. Well done. How often do you run, anyway?" I ask, puffing slightly. To my increasing annoyance Paige isn't even struggling at all.

"Every day. You?"

"Um… not often enough apparently!" Surprisingly, I don't feel that bad about this whole thing. Paige is being perfectly nice and relaxed with me and the run is doing my head good, even if it is interrupted by wildly inappropriate thoughts about my new friend's backside. She slows down for me and we jog in amiable silence until we reach a little section of woods I have completely forgotten about. A small stream flows across the jogging track in the densest part of the woods. There's a rickety old bridge that runs across it allowing joggers to pass without getting their sneakers wet and it looks positively gorgeous covered in brown and gold leaves with the Fall sun shining down on it through the trees. I come to a stop to admire it and Paige continues on before realising I have disappeared and comes to a stop herself half-way across the bridge. She turns back to look at me and my heart drops into my stomach because she is one seriously beautiful woman. As I stare at her with my mouth open I know for sure that regardless of whether we are friends, I am never going to look at her the same way I look at Spencer or Hanna.

"What's wrong?" she asks, "you look like you're upset."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it, let's carry on," I say hastily. My brain is swirling around and I cannot deal with a conversation with her so I start to jog again and hope she gets the message. I catch up without looking at her and we fall in line again leaving the bridge behind.

We complete a full circuit in silence after that and reach the clearing where our cars are parked. I'm pretty out of breath and Paige is a little bit too, although annoyingly she takes almost no time to recover and starts stretching against the hood of her car in a way that I swear is an attempt at teasing me. I look away and do my own stretches, mentally berating myself for thinking like a teenage boy. I try to focus on my stretches and manage to keep my eyes to myself for the majority until I let my guard down for one moment and sneakily glance at her. I am shocked to discover that she is openly looking at me as she stretches, although she quickly turns her head away as soon as our eyes meet. 

My head now spins even faster as I try to keep everything in perspective and convince myself that I must not read anything into that. She's probably looking out of normal, heterosexual curiosity although I notice that there is a blush in her cheeks now that wasn't there before.  
I shake my head at myself and force that stupid part of my brain that insists there's a connection to shut the hell up. This is only going to end in me getting hurt if I keep doing this and I have far bigger fish to fry than Paige Ackard née McCullers as far as sorting my life out is concerned. I cannot get distracted. I finish my stretches and turn to say my goodbyes.

"What about tomorrow? Are you free for a run then too, same time same place?" Paige asks me as I am about to open my mouth.

"Um, no. I've got plans," I say, even though I haven't.

"Oh okay. Well what about a movie in the evening or something?" she asks and again she looks at me with those big brown eyes and the bashful look on her face that I have always been incapable of resisting – even when it got me into trouble – and I find myself saying yes. We settle on meeting at the movie theatre at 7.30 tomorrow night and I get into my car wondering how the hell I went from pissed as hell at her to giddy with joy that I am getting to see her again soon.

Nothing about this is going to end well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HungryOwlTavern - Yes, the title is inspired by the Nick Cave song. I don't think Emily would really listen to that sort of music but if she did she might realise, deep down, that that song exactly describes how she feels for Paige in this fic. Just sayin'.
> 
> Glorymania + Guest who mentioned Emily as a homewrecker - Yeah, I don't like the idea of her cheating either. I hope you'll stick with the story because if anything does happen it's not going to be a simple case of them going around behind Sean's back. This story is going to build very slowly and I hope by the end you'll be comfortable with how things go.
> 
> Everyone else - as already mentioned, this story is going to be a slow build. By the looks of things it's going to be 11 chapters long and it takes place over several months. Paige won't let her guard down easily around Emily, if indeed she feels anything at all. So no impulse kisses in the cinema for now :(
> 
> I hope you stick with it and enjoy anyway because i think you'll like the way it ends.

Seven thirty pm comes around excruciatingly slowly the next day. I spend the morning shopping with my Mom in preparation for Thanksgiving. It's still a week away but she likes to be prepared and get as much done in the week beforehand as possible. In the afternoon I try to put some effort into researching possible career paths for me but my mind can't concentrate on it with my friend-date hanging over my head. By 4pm I give up and start planning what I am going to wear. Usually, I'm not the most fashion-conscious of females. I like to look good and sometimes I make the effort to go ultra-femme but mostly I hang around in simple, classic ensemble pieces.

I know it's stupid to think like this but I really want to look good for Paige tonight and my crazy brain keeps telling me that she would prefer me in my ultra-femme get up. I wonder whether my little purple dress is a step too far and throw out the idea when I remember that the last time I wore it out around straight people I got chatted up by 7 different guys, much to my girlfriend's annoyance. She was holding my hand at the time, after all. I spend a ridiculous amount of time looking through the clothes that I have only just unpacked and can't decide whether I want to show my legs or my boobs off tonight. At 5 Spencer calls me and asks me what I am up to and I lie through my teeth because there is no way I am admitting to her that I am A) going out with Paige tonight and B) spending any significant time thinking about what to wear. I'm also definitely not going to mention how nervous I am about it because I don't want her to drive over to Rosewood and lock me in her trunk until I stand Paige up. After I satisfy her curiosity that I am doing nothing tonight, she hangs up and I decide on the boobs and opt for a pair of figure-hugging jeans and a shirt that clings tightly around my waist and is meant to be only half buttoned up, allowing a view of my cleavage to anyone who wants to look. It's not ultra-femme in the end but I think I look okay. Trouble is it's now 6 o'clock and I'm ready to leave the house a full hour early. I sit in the kitchen with my mother and try to pretend I'm not nervous as hell.

When I get to the theatre it's 7.29 and exactly one minute later Paige turns up. We go into the theatre where it is suddenly very warm and she takes her coat off allowing me to notice that she's wearing a very feminine top that sits lopsided and reveals one of her shoulders. It's creamy white, muscly and toned and when she turns to me I forget how to speak for half a minute. She asks how I am and I open my mouth to reply but can't find the words.

"Um, uhh…."

"Emily?"

"Oh, um, I'm fine," I finally spit out, "how are you?"

"Yeah I'm good. What did you want to see?" she asks, turning towards the theatre listings. There's quite a lot to choose from but in the end it turns out that there is only one film that neither of us have seen already. It's the newest remake of Cheaper By The Dozen starring all 12 of the Jolie-Pitt children. It's been savagely panned by critics worldwide but we figure it might be a laugh so we buy two tickets, popcorn, sodas and a big bag of M&Ms and make our way inside. It's kind of awkward at first getting into our seats because we have to pass the snacks around and arrange our coats in a way that won't be uncomfortable and figure out who gets to put their arm where on the arm rest. Eventually Paige puts her arm at the front and I put my elbow at the back and I'm very keenly aware that if we stay like this we are going to be touching for the entire movie.

I take a sip of my soda as the lights go down and the trailers start and Paige passes me the popcorn without looking at me like she remembers our teenage routine of finishing half each and then swapping instead of passing them back and forth like most normal people do. It feels very weird to be back here with her knowing that I am definitely not supposed to be feeling any of the things I feel and yet it's also kind of comforting in its familiarity. She stares at the screen and chomps her way through the M&Ms like she's starving and I whisper to her in the darkness.

"Did you not eat any dinner?"

"I forgot." She whispers back and I remember that I forgot too, although no doubt for entirely different reasons. The movie starts but I don't take any of it in. It's pretty terrible but I can't honestly say it's the movie's fault for not keeping my attention. I can still feel Paige's arm against my elbow and I keep stealing little glances at her face, which is lit by the screen in a way that highlights her lips and her cute button nose. She's completely oblivious to my glances and has barely taken her eyes off the screen, cringing along with the rest of the theatre at the terrible screenplay and equally terrible acting. About a quarter of the way through she leans over and whispers again.

"Swap?"

It takes me another moment to realise she's talking about the snacks and I look down at the popcorn and feel my face flushing. I have completely forgotten to eat any of it but I pass it over and am relieved when she doesn't notice and simply carries on eating. I force myself to eat some of the M&Ms and watch the movie until Paige shifts and takes her arm off the rest so that we lose contact. I take my arm away too in case it was making her uncomfortable and glance at her again. This time she is looking at me and she smiles like she's happy to see me and I am so glad that it's dark in here because I must be blushing a deep shade of scarlet under that smile. She turns back to the screen and continues munching her way through the popcorn while Maddox Jolie-Pitt explains the importance of making time for family in this modern world to his oblivious parents. Ange breaks down crying and Brad promises not to work so much in future and then it's Thanksgiving and all 14 of them sit around the table together with a vegetarian turkey-substitute in the middle. If I had actually been concentrating on the film I'm pretty sure I'd want to vomit by now but all my head can do is think about Paige and hope for a little bit more contact.

The movie ends and I can feel the entire theatre sigh in relief. We get our stuff together and make our way out as we discuss what, if anything, we are going to do next. She suggests ice cream and I tell her she's nuts for wanting ice cream in November so we decide on hot chocolate instead. When we've bought them she asks if I'm staying at my Mom's house and explains that she lives a little further out of town and has to walk past my Mom's to get home anyway. We start walking in that direction and the conversation turns to our families.

"My Dad got diagnosed with arthritis in his leg a few years ago and was given an honorary discharge. I keep joking I'm gonna buy him a cane for Christmas this year but he won't have it." I tell her.

"I bet your Mom's happy he's home at least?"

"Yeah, she wakes up happy every day. He pretends he's not in as much pain as he is because he knows how happy she is that she always knows he's safe. How are your family?" I ask. She looks uncomfortable before answering.

"Um, I guess my Mom's okay at the moment. My Dad died the year I graduated, that's why I moved back here."

"Oh, Paige, I'm so sorry!" I feel horrified that I have just told her how awesome it is to know my Dad is always alive and well.

"It's okay, seriously. It was really hard at the time but that was a while ago now."

"What happened?"

"He had pancreatic cancer. It all happened so fast," she says and I remember that pancreatic cancer is considered the silent killer because you don't find out about it until it's too late, "my Mom kind of fell apart afterward so I stuck around to make sure she was okay. Then Sean came along and we sort of got stuck in Rosewood. He doesn't really want to leave anyway."

There's an awkward silence before Paige finishes.

"My Dad always liked Sean…"

I don't say anything because my feelings towards Nick McCullers and Sean Ackard are somewhat ambivalent at the moment.

"So anyway…" she says, clearly wanting to change the subject. I think fast.

"Oh, I don't know what you do. Are you working?" I ask.

"Yeah, you'll never guess as what."

"Tell me?"

"Haha, I'm a teacher!" she says proudly.

"No way!" I say. This I find hard to believe.

"Yeah, I teach at Rosewood Middle School."

"What do you teach?" she looks bashful again and mumbles her reply. "sorry, I can't hear you?" I ask teasingly.

"Gym. Well, mainly I teach woodshop but I double as their swim coach. I'm only part-time"

I whoop with delight because, really, if Paige McCullers was going to teach anything, what else would it be? She tells me off for laughing at her and does her best to look dignified as she drinks her hot chocolate. We have reached my corner now and exchange goodbyes. As I am walking towards my porch she calls over to me again.

"I forgot to ask you. The day after Thanksgiving, Sean makes a sort of Chinese noodle turkey evening with the leftovers. Would you like to come?"

I freeze and think of a way out of it.

"Um…. I think I'm supposed to be seeing Hanna and Caleb that night, actually." I say because, conveniently, it is true.

"Why don't you invite them too? It's been ages since I've seen them. Although, do you think it would be awkward?"

"Why would it be awkward?" I ask quickly.

"Well, with Sean being Hanna's ex and all… I know that was, what, 14 years ago? You'd think they'd be over it by now."

My stomach turns to ice as she finishes her sentence and I feel like it's a low blow even though she probably wasn't aiming it at me. I had completely forgotten about Sean being Hanna's ex and thought for a minute she was asking if it would be awkward for me to be around Sean because of her. I feel stupid and like she is right by saying that we should all be over our high school crushes. I want to get away from her now as quickly as possible and figure the quickest way out is the easiest.

"Okay, I'll ask them." I say and smile awkwardly at her before turning in for the night.

The next day I call Hanna to ask if she wants to go. She squeals down the phone at me when I tell her that Paige married Sean until I have to hold the phone a few inches away from my ear.

"I swear he's gay!" she says when she stops squealing and returns to normal speaking volume. I don't reply. "Like seriously, when we were together, even making out hot and heavy he never once got an erection."

I hear Caleb exclaiming in the background about not wanting to hear this but Hanna just carries on anyway.

"How did that even happen? I swear they must be each other's beards because-"

"Hanna!" I interrupt, "do you want to go or not?"

"Um, yes. Yeah it'll be fun, let's do it!" she says.

I sigh to myself as Hanna starts talking to Caleb about arrangements, apparently having forgotten that I am still on the phone. Eventually we finalise our plans and hang up and I ask myself how on earth I manage to keep ending up in situations like this.

Thanksgiving comes and goes without much fuss. My Mom makes so much food that we all end up in a food coma afterward and fall asleep really early in the evening. I wake up early the next day and my Mom insists that I take the rest of the pie over to Paige's with me for dessert. I meet up with Hanna for a catch up coffee at the Brew first and then Caleb picks us up and we drive over to the Ackard's in a nervous silence.

We are greeted warmly at the door by Paige who kisses all three of us on the cheek like a proper housewife and accepts my mother's pie with grace. Sean emerges from what I assume is the kitchen wearing an apron that says "World's Best Husband" on it and grins at us.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" he says, leading us into the kitchen where a huge wok-full of noodles, turkey and the leftover Thanksgiving veg sits on the stove.

"Looking good, buddy," Caleb says as Paige hands him a beer.

"It's almost ready," says Sean and then Paige takes out an assortment of Chinese finger-foods from the oven and sets them on the dining room table which is laid out beautifully. We sit down and Sean serves the noodles as Paige urges us to help ourselves to the eggrolls and they smile at each other and I barely say a single thing.

Just as I am about to shove a forkful of noodles into my mouth, Sean asks who wants to say grace. I freeze and then panic as I glance at Hanna who is smirking at me like the teacher just said something that could be dirty. Paige rescues us and tells Sean to say grace himself. Hanna, Caleb and I avoid each other's gazes just in case we burst out laughing and I glance at Paige to see her trying not to laugh too. When Sean is done we all tuck in and exclaim over how good the food is.

Caleb and Sean start talking about business and I find out that Sean runs a company that buys and sells furniture through the Internet from home. I realise that might be why it was so easy for them to get trapped in Rosewood. Paige talks to Hanna about the process she went through to decorate her home and how she knew nothing about it when she started but is quite happy with the outcome. Hanna's been working as an interior designer so she knows what she's talking about and compliments Paige on her efforts.

I sit by myself and feel utterly out of place as the two couples talk shop and home and I have nothing to add. I look around Paige's house and see that she has indeed decorated it beautifully in modern tones and lines. The house feels warm and solid, a lot like my parent's does and nothing at all like my flat with my ex did. I look at Paige again and take in the way she presents herself in these situations – I don't look at the ways she is naturally beautiful because she can't control them - but I see how she's wearing her hair, the clothes she's wearing and her make-up. They are all very classically feminine – her hair is long and straight, she's wearing a cocktail dress and subtle pink tones on her face that are very Middle America.

I look at Sean and see how relaxed he is and then I see him reach over to hold Paige's hand and suddenly I feel sick to my stomach. My head starts to spin and I realise how hot it is in the dining room with all the food and people and I've had a couple glasses of wine already and I worry that I'm going to faint. I get up, excuse myself and rush to the bathroom where I drop to the floor and put my head between my legs to prevent myself from hyperventilating. I sit there for a few minutes until I hear a soft rapping at the door and try to pretend like I didn't hear it, assuming it's Paige. When Hanna's voice filters through I pick myself up and open the door for her. She walks in and we sit down on the floor together.

"What's going on with you, Em?" she asks in a voice that has always made me want to open up to her.

"I've been so stupid, Han. I keep thinking there's something between me and Paige and I've sort of been trying to impress her or seduce her somehow but now I feel sick with myself because she's straight and married. I didn't realise before what it actually meant when she said she was married but now I see them together and they're actually happy. I can't believe I was trying to make her cheat! Even if there is a connection between us, I shouldn't be trying to break up a marriage for God's sake."

"Oh, Emily. I didn't realise you still had a thing for her."

"I never stopped. Even when I was with Maya and then Samara it just never went away." I say, voicing something I've always tried to deny. I rest my head on Hanna's shoulder. She hugs me and we sit quietly for a minute while my heartbeat returns to normal.

"Well, Emily, you know what they say about the best way to get over someone…"

"…is to get under someone else?" I respond, knowing the routine. "Yeah, this time I don't think that'll help."

"I guess not. I don't know, maybe you need to start looking at her like the person she is now instead of the person you wished she was back then. They seem very happy even if I do think it's a bit weird and maybe you can actually get over her once you know her? You might find the real Paige less attractive than the Paige you have made in your head."

Sometimes Hanna is ditzy but often she is cleverest of the four of us. When it comes to relationships, she knows what she's talking about and the fact that she and Caleb are as happy as ever after 13 years is a testament to that. I splash my face and hope it isn't too obvious I've been crying before we go back into the dining room and Hanna explains that I am not feeling very well and need to go home. We apologise and reassure Sean that it's probably just from eating too much yesterday and drinking too much tonight and make our way to the front door. Caleb has gathered that something is up with me but is keeping the farce up like the good boyfriend/life partner that he is and he thanks Sean for dinner, promising to keep in touch better now.

As we walk out to the car, Paige stops us again one last time.

"Emily, before you go – I just realised I don't have your phone number. It'd be nice to see you again during the week if you're about?"

I look at Hanna for help and she gives Paige my phone number while I breathe in the cool night air and begin to process what Hanna said to me in the bathroom. She is right, I need to get to know this new Paige because it is the only way I will break down the construction of the old Paige in my head. After all, you can't stay in love with someone once you've realised they truly feel nothing for you, can you?  
I sure hope not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things were kind of in transition for me for a while what with quitting my job and starting a new one. I couldn't sleep tonight so I went back to this. Maybe I'll stick to it this time. Hope so!  
> Please read & review.

Paige wakes me up with a text the next morning asking how I am and if I want to go swimming with her at all this weekend. I give it a little while before I reply so that I can think it through. Swimming would probably be a good way to get to know her again since it was how we first bonded and I was planning on going today anyway. I text her back and say I'll meet her there in a few hours and set about making myself presentable.

The swimming goes easily enough. I do my best to avert my eyes from her costume-clad body and concentrate on keeping pace with her as we share the fast lane and swim side-by-side. After a while we come to a stop by the edge of the pool and the first word out of Paige's mouth is the most doesn't surprise me at all.

"Race?"

"Hell yeah, I need to make up for you beating me at running!"

"Winner buys coffee?" she asks and I nod and we take off. Paige can run rings around me on her feet but in the pool I have the edge. I guess she's spent too much time telling other people how to swim and not enough actually doing it herself, whereas I have been swimming several times a week for 8 years. I beat her comfortably by several seconds and stand up in the water.

"Touché, Fields," she says when she emerges in the shallow end. I smile proudly at her and we make for the showers. It's all very PG as we go into separate cubicles and she ridicules me for my hair routine and stands outside the cubicle fully dressed and ready to go while I am still not even finished showering. Patient as ever when it comes to me and my beauty-regimes, she hangs around as I finish.

I feel a little bit more relaxed this time as we sit down with our drinks and reminisce about old times. I'm determined to get to know her if only to make my own unresolved feelings go away. They've been there for so long that I think it's probably going to be a bumpy ride but I feel very positive as we chat about old school teachers and friends. I tell her about what Aria is up to these days – she and Fitz are living in a small town in Connecticut where he writes and she teaches English to high school students. We discuss whether it's odd that she's a teacher considering how she met her husband but then decide it's kind of perfect for her. Aria's following in the family business after a fashion. 

That leads the conversation into how Paige ended up as a teacher.

"It was never intentional. Sean earns good money so mostly it's about helping out and giving myself something to do. I dunno, sometimes I wish I could have a career like you and Spencer but I don't see how I could do anything interesting in Rosewood."

"Me? I don't really have a career. I sort of did what you are doing but with PA work. Samara was the one who wanted to be in Chicago and I never figured out what I wanted to do." I tell her, "I'm trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life, actually."

"You've really got no idea?"

"Nope." I shake my head. "Apart from swimming, I was never brilliant at anything in school."

"Me neither."

"Except wood shop"

"Yeah, but you can't really make a career out of that." I smile and decide not to tell her about the girls I know who have made careers out of things like wood shop. Somehow I think comparing her to my butch lesbian friends wouldn't go down well. We fall silent for a minute as we reflect on our professional underachievement. Paige breaks the silence with a question that seems to come out of nowhere.

"Whatever happened to Maya, anyway?" she asks a little awkwardly, presumably because she said such awful things about her when we were young.

"Oh, well, you know – high school loves don't work out for most people, do they? Hanna and Aria got real lucky. I think once I went to college I realised that I was only with her because she was the only other gay girl around. We didn't have much in common and it sort of fizzled out when I realised that there were lots of ladies at college who might suit me better."

Paige displays the perfect amount of interest and accepts my explanation without comment. I try to act like I'm not only telling her half the truth – I did realise there were plenty more fish in the sea when I got to college, but even before that I knew Maya was wrong for me. She was there and available and out and she helped me to come out in ways I can never thank her enough for but she never made me feel safe or like I was myself. It didn't help either that I was wrestling with my feelings for Paige the whole time. Once Paige had totally pushed me away, I leapt into my relationship with Maya like it was a band-aid over a bullet wound. Take Paige out of the picture and there wasn't much to the relationship.

"Gosh, High School feels so long ago." Paige responds, diverting the topic.

"I know, right? I sort of miss it. The halls, the lunch room, the lockers. I haven't been there in years."

"Hah, I have no such nostalgia. I'm there enough during the week."

"I'm surprised they let you teach – don't they know how much trouble you dragged me into when we were young?"

"Me? Get YOU into trouble?" Paige flutters her eyelashes, perfectly aware of where this is going.

"Yes, you! Like that time you made me rescue the frogs from the biology lab."

"I don't remember you complaining, Fields. You were quite happy to tag along." she grins at me and dips her head, that same grin I remember from high school and some sort of leviathan starts squirming in my stomach. "You know, we could go back there. I know a good way to break in and there's only the old caretaker looking after the place on Saturdays."

"Paige.. this sounds awfully familiar..."

"What? We're adults, what are they going to do?"

"Arrest us? Fine us? Breaking and entering?" I'm starting to pick up our old banter, the easy friendship and something in the back of my mind wonders – should it be like our old friendship or should it be something entirely new? The thought flutters away before I get a grasp on it.

"Emily, I'm a teacher there. I think we'll be fine. But it could be so much fun." She raises her eyebrows at me and I pretend to consider it before saying yes.

We grab our stuff and leave, meandering towards the town high school. When we get there Paige directs me around the back to a basement window that she knows how to jimmy open. It's lucky neither of us got fat because we wouldn't fit through if one of us had a few extra pounds. I scrape my side on the way in but land safely on my feet, in the dark.

A light comes on and I see Paige standing by the switch. She's still grinning, her eyes lit up with mischief and I start to get excited. Okay yeah, this is clearly going to be a lot of fun.

She leads the way through the school, up to the main hall way where our lockers were. I find mine and – amazingly – the combination still works. The kid who has it this year has pasted pictures of half-naked women all over it. I wonder for a moment whether I would have liked to have those images in there when I was young and decide probably not. Paige strides over and starts moving the pictures around, turning many of them upside down or on their side. She arranges it so that it looks like there are a pile of women in a heap at the bottom of the locker door. She closes it and then starts down the corridor.

"Let's go into Fitz's room." she calls over her shoulder.

"Why?" I skip to catch up.

"Send Aria a picture of it, it'll amuse them."

I think about it and agree.

"It's not really Fitz's room any more though, he hasn't been here for years" I say as we walk in.

I snap a picture on my phone, send it to Aria and then watch as Paige contemplates the blackboard. She's picked up a piece of chalk and is holding it between her fingers like a cigarette. She starts drawing and I watch, unsure what her plan is. As the image starts to take shape I grab some chalk myself and join in. I colour in around her shapes and we make quick work of the graffiti. She has a smudge of white on her cheek I wish I could wipe away, but I ignore that thought and look at the finished product instead, grinning ear to ear.

Every single Rosewood high student has the same arch-nemesis. The ruin er of all things fun and spontaneous, the infamous keeper of the mops, the eye-in-the-sky and the preventer of all store cupboard hook-ups.

The caretaker.

When we were at school it was quite popular to compare him to Argus Filch from Harry Potter which was at the height of its hype at the time. Paige and I have drawn a copy (somewhat lopsided) of a cartoon that went around for a while depicting him in wizards robes with Mrs Norris and a set of chains for hanging students up by their ankles. I am not sure if the kids on Monday morning will understand the reference but it amuses me plenty.

We survey our efforts for a few moments before the very distinct sound of a door down the hall opening startles us. By the shuffling gait and jangling keys we both know straight away who it is – the aforementioned dreaded caretaker. Perfect timing, really.

Paige looks at me for a moment and then bolts without a word out of the door. I follow, barely keeping up as we race down the hall away from the old cretin. We crash through the door that leads to the basement, giggling like idiots, and leap down the stairs. Paige starts to climb up through the window, her strong upper body making easy work of lifting herself through. When she gets through she turns around to help me up and I wriggle through. My feet pass the threshold at the exact moment we hear the door to the basement being opened by the caretaker and him calling out, shouting at us rascals that he knows our parents.

Paige scrambles to her feet and jogs away. I follow after her and we slow down as we reach the road until we are both walking at a normal adult pace. We head a few blocks away and then very suddenly turn to each other and burst into hysterical laughter.  
People around us stare but I honestly don't care because I don't remember the last time I laughed like this.

"Gosh," I say as I try to catch my breath, "I forgot what it was like being friends with you!"

That day was another turning point in our friendship. I found that I did like the person she was, who was after all not very different from the friend I had at school, but that I could mostly turn off my feelings. I could live with that.

We continued to see each other after that, maybe once or twice a week. We swam every weekend and sometimes went to the movies or for dinner during the week. It became easy, hanging out with her. Conversation flowed and we found we agreed on more than I would ever imagine. There were still some fundamentals we disagreed on – I could never get my head around God, whereas she has always believed – but being adults apparently made us reasonable about these things. We agreed to disagree.

Time passed and I got a part-time job working as an assistant for a local solicitor. It wasn't terribly thrilling but I was beginning to feel guilty about scrounging off my parents.

Christmas comes and goes without much fuss although I don't see a lot of Paige. We were both too busy with family commitments but planned to spend New Years Eve in Spencer's barn like the good old days. Aria and Fitz come back for the holidays – they both join us, which makes a change from our high school years where Aria had to be with one or the other. I think about how glad I am they can be together properly now, not hiding anything from anyone. Hanna and Caleb are there too, as in love and in sync as ever. When Paige arrives, I get a small shock when I see Sean with her. For some reason I totally forgot about him (largely because I never see him and we hardly talk about him) but I push all thought about her away.

We drink, we sing, we eat, we reminisce. We toast to Alison, our dearly departed, as is traditional on New Years Eve. I notice small things, small changes in Paige when she is around Sean. She defers to him, laughs less and talks quieter when she is with him. She never leaves his side. A small, sick feeling starts in my throat when I think that is probably because she feels safe with him but I am pleased to note it's really only a small feeling, nothing like what I felt at Thanksgiving. Maybe this friendship thing is working – maybe I am finally getting over her.

At Midnight Spencer grabs hold of me and gives me the tightest hug I have ever had. She spins me round and pecks me on the lips. Despite her efforts, I notice Paige and Sean kissing in the corner of my eye. I wonder to what extent Spencer is trying to distract me. I am grateful either way and make a mental note to thank her somehow.

And so the new year began. This was the year everything changed for good in my life.

This was the year it all came together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to update. I won't promise that the next update will be fast but I never gave up on this story.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so short and crappy - I couldn't sleep again and wanted to get this out. It ought to start speeding up soon though.
> 
> Please read and review. Thanks

After the rush of holidays January feels bleak and lonely. My friends go back to their normal lives elsewhere and my parents return to work. I remember that the whole point of being back in Rosewood was to sort out my future career so I make appointments with career advice specialists in Philadelphia and spend hours trawling job websites looking for ideas. Everything I find seems so dull and uninviting. I have always felt a lack of motivation when it comes to making money. The only projects I've worked on that have made me feel excited and full of energy have been voluntary – not exactly the sort of thing that will set me up financially for life. I keep thinking... if only the world would pay you for good deeds, I'd be rich.

My initial burst of productivity slows down after a few weeks and I begin to feel a little glum about it all and before long the highlight of my week becomes Paige. We fall into a sort of routine. Saturday mornings we swim together, Sunday evenings we go for a run. Tuesday evenings is movie night if there's anything interesting on or just dinner if there's not. She works Mondays and Wednesdays and I work Tuesdays and Fridays. Sometimes we have lunch on a Thursday. It becomes a settled and almost relaxed friendship, and it's not long before old habits start to reappear.

One evening in late January, we are sitting in a scuzzy diner a few miles out of town. Paige suggested it and I have no idea why.

"Do you come here a lot?" I ask, looking around not a little apprehensively.

"I didn't realise it was so..."

"Rustic?"

"I heard about it from a colleague. I thought we could..."

"Give it a try?" I give the place a furtive look, speaking without thinking.

"Are you going to finish all my sentences for me?" Paige asks, cocking her head.

I snap my attention back to her and register that I have been doing exactly that. She has a small smile on her face. Friendly. Encouraging. It makes me grin full-beam at her. Finishing each other's sentences was something we were famous for at school. It happened so often that I started not finishing my own sentences around other people, expecting them to finish it for me. I looked like a right idiot when they didn't.  


We look at each other for a few moments as if we are considering each other for the first time again, and then relax simultaneously.

"I missed doing that." she says quietly, looking down at the table, "I never made a friend as good as you after High School."

"Me neither." I say, thinking that Samara never really counted as a friend. Are lovers supposed to be friends? Shouldn't your partner be your soulmate in all ways? I wonder about Sean and what he is to Paige. Husband, lover, supporter, friend? All of the above?

Paige looks so sincere and vulnerable that I have the sudden urge to reach over and hold her hand. I don't though. This is an unspoken rule between us. Ever since Thanksgiving, we have not so much as fist-bumped. Not a single moment of non-accidental contact. I think I know why I am reluctant to touch her – something in me tells me that if I let myself be affectionate with her I will not be able to shove my feelings away and so far I'm doing very well at controlling myself. Having said that, an unkind part of my mind wonders darkly if the reason Paige never touches me is because she's afraid she'll catch gay if she does. Well, I think, we spent enough nights as teenagers falling asleep together that if that were possible she'd have caught it years ago.

I shake that thought out of my head. We're different people now. No more sleepovers. And this friendship, it's odd, but it's pretty damn good.

While the sleepovers are a thing of the past, other aspects of our former friendship return with time. I used to joke as a teenager that the only reason Paige used to let me finish any and all shared desserts was because she wanted to weigh me down in the pool – her only hope of beating me in a race. Aside from the fact that we were virtually identical when it came to our swimming times, the truth was that that was just how Paige was with me. Ever the chivalrous tom. She knew I had a sweet tooth and used to leave the last bite of pie or ice cream sundae for me. She also had a tendency to open doors for me and let me go through first, let me pick which movie we were going to watch and which restaurant we were going to eat in and of course she always walked me home after. As an adult it's confusing because it reminds me of how some of the butcher girls I've dated treated me and I must admit it's nice being spoiled.

And don't get me wrong – I'm not so easily bought that a few well-placed acts of kindness can make me fall in love with a person. It's so hard to explain because it sounds ridiculous but with Paige it has always felt so genuine and comfortable, and if it were anyone other than her I would suspect ulterior motives from these little treats. But with Paige, I tell myself over and over again, despite the undeniable personal chemistry we have, the truth is she's just a kind thoughtful person. That's all.

And hey, give me some credit. It does take a few weeks for my previous efforts to fall completely apart. I convince myself that this relationship-without-the-relationship is totally healthy and normal. After all, we're don't even hug each other. And Paige goes home every night to Sean's bed. So it's all innocent and as straight as I'm going to get, right?

But as time goes on, it becomes less and less easy to pretend.

This woman, this warm, thoughtful woman is everything I've ever wanted. And being with her even like this as friends is starting to mean more to me than my entire relationship with Samara. I chide myself as I admit it but it's true. I promised myself to try to get to know Paige as she is now in the hope that it would make my immature teenage infatuation disappear. And for a while it worked because I was getting to know Paige on a shallow level – this put-together married woman who felt distant to me.

The trouble is, we spend so much time together now I feel like I really do know her again. And the more I get to know her the more I realise I'm in even more trouble than I first thought. Infatuation is one thing. Loving someone you don't really know – it's harmless, a fantasy. But loving someone you do know? That's terrifying when everything you know about a situation tells you it is never going to happen.

Suffice it to say I'm in over my head.

But it sure feels nice.


	7. Chapter 7

It all changes one day in late February. Most of the month we kept up our routine with only a short hiccup in the middle around Valentine's Day. Sean took Paige to the city for a fancy dinner and I spent the evening getting drunk in the barn with Spencer. Nothing helps you forget that the love of your life is eating a romantic supper with her husband like a bottle of expensive tequila and a marathon of Scream movies until you pass out. The meltdown lasted only as long as the hangover, and calm returned the following day.

I don't know why it happens but one evening we are at the movies watching the most boring documentary ever made and it's only half an hour before I start to nod off. As I do, in that hazy dreamland where you're not awake but not truly asleep, I feel Paige drop her head wordlessly onto my shoulder. I don't question it, it barely registers and feels like a quiet and cosy dream, I just rest my head against hers and drift off. In hindsight, I wish I knew what made her change that day.

We sleep like that for most of the film and are rudely awoken by a thump from behind as some equally disinterested patron leaves before the credits roll. We both snap awake in an instant and I put on my most innocent face. She looks at me with groggy eyes and blushes a deep scarlet.

But she doesn't look away. And she doesn't move away. She just sits there looking at me for a few moments and then, as if nothing has changed, she sits up, gathers her things and asks if I'm ready to leave.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." I whisper as I scramble to grab my coat and bag. I can still feel the warmth where her body was resting against me.

We walk out of the theatre in silence. My head is full of questions and whirring thoughts as Paige opens the door for me, lets me pass through and seems happy as larry. She bumbles on towards my house and starts chatting about how boring the documentary was as though we didn't just break down an unspoken barrier.

"I mean, really, that guy with the moustache spoke so slowly I didn't get through a full sentence without zoning out. It's no wonder we fell asleep. But I can't believe we just spent $15 on a nap. Most expensive nap I ever took."

"Yeah." I say, "me too."

"You okay?" she asks. I hesitate – why on earth should I be not okay? I don't trust myself to speak so I just nod and look away. She seems oblivious to my internal confusion and accepts my nod without a word.

We don't touch any more that evening. She walks me home, says goodnight at my door and I lay in bed late into the night thinking about the comforting weight of her head on my shoulder.

After that it happens slowly. The next time we see each other is for our Saturday morning swim and things remain entirely platonic until the very end as we say goodbye. It's not much, but compared to the months of zero contact the little squeeze she gives my wrist with a half smile and the McCullers head dip send shivers up and down my body I haven't felt in years. And the next day as we're running she taunts and teases me to go so fast that by the time we cross the finish line even Paige is panting. I enlist the help of a nearby tree to stay upright.

"Whoo! You're getting better, Em. What a workout!" she swans over, pats me on the back and offers me a bottle of water.

It's little things like that at first - a pat, a squeeze, eventually a hug. We walk down the street and do that cutesy hip bump and giggle like schoolchildren. We hug hello and goodbye, high five at the end of a swim. It's all very innocent, friendly. For a while.

The touches evolve, linger, become more regular. She puts her hand on the small of my back and pushes gently, making me move forward in the line at the cinema. I grab her hand at the tense bit in a thriller, and she doesn't let go. One time, she stops me mid-sentence, moves very close and ever so tenderly, ever so softly, wipes an eyelash from my cheek, asks me to make a wish. The world disappears except for the little space we occupy and my brain slows to to a crawl. She's so close I could kiss her. What else would I wish for?

We go for a picnic after swimming one Saturday, sitting in the balmy spring breeze. Pam Fields has done herself proud with this selection. It's a rich feast of protein and three kinds of salad, with a massive slice of cherry pie for dessert. We stuff ourselves silly and lay back in a food coma, rough tartan blanket scratching against my bare calves.

"Where's Sean today?" I ask. I haven't heard about Sean's plans in weeks, Paige has stopped mentioning him, which works for me.

"Chicago, visiting cousins." Paige says. She staring at the clouds. I rather think her answer was short, monotonous and I wonder if they have had a fight. What about?

"Any news?"

"With Sean?" Paige asks sharply, turning to me, I nod. "No, nothing. Same old. Why?"

"Oh, well I just wondered. I know you were talking about kids when I first got back".

"Ah, yeah. Not for a while. I'm happy with things as they are." she says, and looks back at the sky.

With things as they are? You spend all weekend and two nights in the week with me, and barely mention Sean and you're happy with that? I am so confused. And just to confuse things more, without warning or permission, she shifts around and rests her head on my stomach, still staring at the sky.

"Ah, that's the life." she exhales.

"What, my squashy stomach as a pillow?"

"Yeah, it's so squishy," she throws at me sarcastically, yanking my shirt up and tickling, "look at it, it's flat, even with a food baby." she says with finality.

"Can't make a good pillow then, can it?" I quip as she lays her head on me again.

"I meant that you're warm." she says, her voice quiet and calm.

Well, I'm certainly warm now and glad my heart isn't really in my stomach because she'd surely hear it pounding.

Although the change had been coming for so long, it was then that I realised that it was too late to stop – it had been so gradual that we crossed a line without noticing. The touches become more intimate, more lingering. Sometimes I just tell myself it's normal straight girl stuff – Spencer and Hanna always told me that girls are affectionate with each other without being sexual; Spencer loved repeating that whenever I used to talk about Paige, especially after the argument. But I only ever think that when we're apart and the touches are just memories. When we're standing outside my house after dinner and Paige puts her arms around my waist – not my shoulders like friends do, but actually around my waist and draws me in, holds me, it doesn't feel platonic. When she sneaks up behind me as I'm waiting for her in the woods and slips her hands around my sides, laying her palm flat on my stomach, it doesn't feel platonic. And when she puts her arm around my shoulders in the theatre and lets me snuggle in, it doesn't feel platonic.

And the problem with that is that it feels an awful lot like cheating. Can it be cheating if there's nothing overtly sexual, you never talk about it and you don't even have matching sexual orientations?

I'd think it was all in my head except that it is absolutely a world away from where we were before. She's gone from not touching me at all, to touching me normally to touching me in ways that would earn most other people a quick slap around the face.

I wrestle with myself every night. It's not fair on Sean, it's not fair on me or Paige, it's in my head, it's real. It feels great. It terrifies me. I should do something, say something, break the stalemate. But I won't because, if this makes sense, if I say something, history might repeat itself and I'll find out it's been a lie the whole time. Paige will hate me, Sean will ridicule me and Spencer will be right. So I keep quiet and squirm in my seat when she brushes my neck and stare at her lips when she looks into my eyes and wait, praying that at the very least nothing will change.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's an important chapter. I've had this mostly written since I started writing this fic a year ago. I'm sorry it's taken so long, and I hope it reads smoothly. The mask is starting to crack, but i'm afraid you're not going to know exactly what Paige is thinking until the very end.

It takes an exceedingly long time to finally bring up the courage to kiss her. Several times since our re-union the opportunity has arisen and each time I back out, terrified she might reject me. I almost did it once, I was on the brink of it, inches away from her lips but sod's law intervened and her phone rang, tearing her away from me to answer it. Maybe it wasn't sod's law, maybe I was on the verge of kissing her for so long that the hours slipped by unnoticed and something inevitably had to interrupt. I might have spent the next decade almost kissing her if not for the phone call.

We go to a karaoke bar.

It was Paige's idea, her version of the funniest thing we could ever do. She would have changed the plans if she thought I really didn't want to go, but how could I say no to something that made her look so happy, so goofy and excited, even though it sounded lame to me? So karaoke it was.

Paige took the first possible opportunity she could to get up on stage and sing. She was pretty impressive, actually, belting out Queen's I Want To Break Free at the top of her lungs and managing to sound not too bad and look ridiclous at the same time. I loved watching her in situations like this; her natural extroversion in all its glory. She knew she wasn't the best singer in the world, but she didn't take herself seriously enough to be self-conscious. She just had fun. It was refreshing to watch.

And then, of course, she turned that playfulness on me and announced to the whole bar that her friend Emily really wanted to sing but needed a little encouragement. I turned beet red and attempted (failed) to blend into the wall behind me. Every single pair of eyes turned in my direction but it was only Paige, whose eyes were twinkling with mischief, that meant anything to me. Voices started to call out, not unkindly.

"Go on, Emily!" "We want to hear you sing, Emily!"

And then Paige, with a coy smile, "Come on, Em."

Honestly, I don't know whether it was the diminutive form of my name – so personal from her lips – or the look on her face that did it, but I couldn't say no and reluctantly started moving towards the stage.

She held out her hand to help me up onto the stage as the opening notes to Pink's So What started, a popular song from our teenage years.  


I manage not to sing the first line "I guess I just lost my husband", but join in for the second and by the end I'm positively enjoying myself, belting out the lyrics and punching the air with Paige. When the song wraps up we get a round of applause. Paige almost leaps on top of me in a hug, squeezing me tight and laughs into my ear.

"You superstar!" she yells, elated, "let's get a drink!"

I suppose that I could try to make more of a point of the fact that drink was involved, but the truth is we had one drink and one drink only. Perhaps it loosened us for what was to come, made us more emotional, but we weren't drunk.

"I can't believe you get me to do things like that. I would never do it alone." I say as we take a seat in the corner. She sits down next to me even though convention dictates she ought to sit opposite.

"I know, that's why we're such a good team. I pull you up and you ground me." she says. It seems loaded to me, emotional. I grin ear-to-ear.

"So, you come here often?"

"A few times, usually when friends are in town. I can never get Sean to come, he hates karaoke."

The mention of Sean immediately spoiles the atmosphere and Paige's smile fades quite dramatically. She downs her drink and looks at her hands.

"He's quite boring." she says. I have no idea what to say. Yes, I know he's boring. I could have told her that when he was dating Hanna. But I don't think I can stand to be Paige's confidante, or give her marital advice. She starts to carry on, "I don't, I don't-"

"I don't want to talk about Sean." I cut her off. It's the first time I've been short with her for a long time, and it startles her. It's also the first time shes's looked unsure about anything. She stares at me, some stark new emotion in her eyes. I don't know what I'm seeing, but she doesn't look away. It's incredible how fast the evening is changing. Five minutes ago we were elated and happy and now, now my heart is beating faster than ever and I can feel something is changing. I am terrified, what if Paige is only spending time with me because she's unhappy with Sean after all and looking for a distraction? Not even out of any genuine affection.

But then her expression softens and she touches my hand, her fingertip gently stroking the skin between my thumb and my forefinger for a moment before threading her fingers between mine. She twists towards me, looking at our hands. Her face solemn. I keep perfectly still. If this is real, if something is going to happen, for now I'm letting her set the pace. I have to be sure.

We don't sit like that for long, she takes a deep breath and brings her eyes up to mine. I look into her eyes and for the first time in our lives, I see desperation. She looks scared and open and utterly confused. She holds my gaze for a moment more and then it's gone, lost, and I can see that whatever train of thought she had, whatever wall came down, has gone back up and if I don't act now I'll never know.

She lets go of my hand, jumps up and storms towards the door. I don't miss a beat, chase after her, grab her shoulder before she leaves the bar and just about manage to hear her growl.

"I can't think clearly around you."

She runs out of the door, and I follow her into the car park. I can hear her speaking but can't make out the words. It's dark, and the nights are cold here in spring.

She stops near my car and I realise she is crying. I try to make sense of the gibberish she is spouting between the tears. She keeps saying she can't do this; she doesn't know what she's doing, she's confused, she loves her husband… but.

"But," she says, and promptly begins sobbing again. I've never seen her like this before. I question, repeatedly, beginning to confirm to myself what I know it is. She can feel the tension and doesn't want to deny it anymore. And now that she has started I'm not going to let her stop.

I take her hand and lead her to my car. With my other arm I hold her close and wait for the sobs to subside. She leans in against me, her head under my chin like it belongs there. I let go of her hand and reached up to touch her cheek, to wipe the tears away with a fluid, smooth stroke of my thumb and look into her eyes. She has an uncanny ability to look beautiful even when crying; it makes her dark eyes glisten and in that moment I fall in love with her all over again. She breathes out as if she has been holding her breath and then seems to realise what is happening, that we are in an embrace that is definitely not platonic. She moves away from me until she hits the side of my car.

"I can't," she whispers, shaking her head, "it's too hard."

I am sure now, after so long of doubting, that she feels it too and I am not going to let it rest, buried under a mountain of fear. I step forward and place my hand under her chin, bringing her eyes up to mine. I move my body against hers and can feel her shaking, and I notice that I am shaking too.

"You can," I say, leaning in, "it's easy."

Our lips meet with so little weight it might be accidental, our bottom lips brushing against each other and our breath fast and shallow in our throats. After that I press a little harder and feel her respond, her self-control and my doubt melting away in an instant. I kiss her like I'm trying to tell her how I feel about her with it and before long her tongue flicks out to find mine and as soon as it does, I'm a goner. This is it, this is everything, I'm never going to be able to let this go now I know how good it feels. She tastes delicious; it's cold and she's been crying but there's something about the way her mouth tastes that makes me want to never stop doing this.

I reach my hands up, touch her face, touch her neck, run them down her shoulders and arms. Her arms wrap around my waist and she pulls me in, kisses me harder, hotter, her breath coming fast. I feel it everywhere at once, deep in my bones, my blood which is racing through my veins, my lips feel each movement of hers with intense clarity, the softness of her skin. I push her against the car harder and at the same moment she slips her fingertips under my shirt and brushes the skin on my lower back. It jolts me, makes me gasp and lean in further, but she breaks the kiss.

"Emily" she says. I hear my name, which comes from deep in her throat, almost raspy, and full of need, feel her fingertips still stroking my skin, and drop my lips to the skin on her neck, kissing it lightly before meeting her eyes.

"Take me home with you," she says.

I don't need to be asked twice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who review. It really does help me keep writing, especially anything with constructive criticism so please if you have something to say go ahead and say it :)

We drive home in silence, which would be awkward if not for the fact that it's full of anticipation. I more than half expect her to change her mind on the way, demand I stop the car to let her out, but she doesn't. She just sits there, staring straight ahead, until we arrive at my place.

She doesn't touch me or make any move towards me until we are in my bedroom and the door clicks shut. And then, without word or warning, Paige is against me again, her lips seeking mine, her hands touching me in all the ways I have ever imagined. She's is anything but shy at first and has no problem unbuttoning my shirt, kicking her own shoes off and dropping her skirt to the floor. She even manages to undo my bra with a deft flick of her fingertips, but as I let it fall down my shoulders she falters, and for the first time since I kissed her, she looks afraid.

_Oh God,_  I think, _please don't run screaming at the first sight of my breasts_. But she doesn't, because I take her hand and bring it up to make the first contact. Her expression changes from mild panic to what I can only describe as arousal, pure and simple, and then the heat returns.

We make love, silently, draped in the moonlight shining through my window. Paige is intense at times, even rough, grabbing and scratching, exploring my body, but also gentle and deliberate, as if she's trying to make me experience every kind of caress in one night. She freezes again the first time her hand comes between my legs, and by that point I am so desperate for contact there that I don't miss a beat. I press her hand exactly where I want it and then, as she explores tentatively, I respond in kind. The feel of her skin against me and her warm wetness under my fingertips is more than I can stand. It takes me almost no time at all to climax, slightly embarrassing I know but I really can't stress the fact that as well as being hopelessly in love with this girl, her body is hot as hell. Paige takes longer, but when she does come I can tell it's intense; her nails dig into my skin painfully and I can feel her clit throbbing long after her muscles relax.

After, she collapses into the bed and reaches out for me, wraps her arms around me and snuggles in as close as she can get. I kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and without a word, her body slackens and her breathing becomes even. She's asleep, and I lay there holding her, my mind racing as I come down from the high, thinking about how this is going to play out in the morning.  
I must drift off to sleep myself at some point because I am woken up the following morning by the muffled sound of someone getting dressed while trying not to make any noise. I snap awake and sit up.

"Fuck," I hear Paige mutter as she takes a moment out of her sneaky escape to stare at me, sitting up in bed, fully naked. I call out her name and leap to my feet, but not quickly enough to stop her coming to her senses and make a running leap out of my bedroom and down the stairs. She doesn't even put her shoes back on, just runs out of the front door, nearly slamming it shut behind her. The fact that I am naked does stop me following, but I am prepared for this. As I was falling asleep I assumed that she would freak out the following day, so I let her leave and know this is not the end.

Instead I get up, get in the shower and think. She needs time to process, and I should give it to her. But I need to find a way to occupy myself in the mean time or else I will surely lose my mind. I decide to take it one hour at a time, starting with breakfast for my parents.

Once I'm dried and dressed, I head down to the kitchen and start on a batch of pancakes and bacon. My mother comes in as I'm flipping the first pancake, and throws a spanner in my plan.

"Emily, honey," she says as she sets the table, "I don't mean to pry but... I could have sworn I heard someone run out of your bedroom at the crack of dawn this morning."

Shit, I think, this is so embarrassing. I don't say anything, just keep concentrating on my pancakes.

"You know we're not prudes and it'd be great to know you were dating again. I just could have sworn I heard you say the name Paige..."

She waits for my response, and honestly my mind has gone blank. I have no idea what to say to make her stop talking about it. I turn to her, open my mouth, and nothing comes out. I guess my expression is confirmation enough for her.

"Oh, god. It really was Paige?"

I just look away, guiltily.

"Emily! Oh, sweetie, I always did wonder about you two. You were so close. But I never thought it would happen like this."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, you know..."

I stare at her blankly.

"There's a marriage involved, Emily," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I don't want you to get hurt."

I had almost forgotten about the marriage. To me, we may as well have been 18 years old last night, and she was Paige McCullers, not Ackard. It must be obvious on my face because the next moment my mother turns the burner off (I think I was burning the pancake anyway) and wraps me up in a hug.

"Whatever happens, sweetie, we'll be here for you. And I know you will do what is right..." she lets go of me and looks me square in the face, "for everyone."

My stomach plummets. There's a subtle suggestion there that I need to think about Sean in all of this too. And I suppose I know she's right but when your own mother is essentially telling you not to pursue the one you love, it kinda feels like a slap in the face. And it makes me feel awful about how right, how inevitable, last night felt to me.

My Mom gives me one last squeeze and promptly takes over the pancakes. When my dad comes downstairs, he acts as though nothing new is happening and I guess that means they had a deal that Mom would speak to me and she would fill Dad in when I wasn't around. I am grateful for this teamwork they have going on because I really don't think I could continue talking about Paige this morning.

I decide to go for a run once my breakfast has gone down. Sure, it's not an original idea, but some ideas are good because they work. It will help me clear my head.

I head to our usual running path, plug my headphones in and take off. My thoughts are surprisingly clear considering the circumstances, but maybe it's a clarity that comes from finally knowing that there was, after all, something there. It's amazing to think that I was right all along. Paige does feel something for me, and all I need to figure out now is exactly what that is. I know what I want from her and it's just as I am praying to the powers that be to please please please let me get what I want, that I round the corner that leads to the little bridge in the woods and almost fall over myself coming to a stop.

Paige is standing there, perfectly still, looking down into the little stream that runs under it. In the spring green, she looks just as beautiful as she did in the autumn gold, and all that feeling from months ago comes rushing back. She turns towards me, calm as anything and I notice she is still wearing the pretty blouse she was wearing the night before, except she has changed into loose sweatpants for the run.

"Hey," I say, tentatively.

"Hi," she just looks at me. This is so awkward.

"How are you?" I ask, switching to automatic small talk.

"I don't know."

We are silent for a moment, and if my mind was clear a minute ago, it is now so full of questions and possibilities that I cannot separate out a single individual thought.

"I had to get some air," Paige says, and then takes a deep breath before continuing, "Sean came home this morning."

My mouth reacts before my brain does.

"Great, I suppose that means I should leave you two lovebirds alone." I say, uncharacteristically bitter. I guess my Mom's warning got to me more than I realised.

"Em, I didn't even think about him..." Paige's voice cracks as she speaks, her eyes pleading me to listen, to understand. "I didn't think about him at all, after... well you know. Not a single thought until I woke up."

"Okay..."

"Emily, please."

"Please what, Paige?" I don't know why I am being like this. Maybe it's me who needed space to process after all, but suddenly I feel annoyed, impatient at her. "Are you going to be honest with me, finally?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. You know exactly what I mean." I say, stepping towards her, putting my body and my heat near hers. She doesn't expect this, doesn't expect me to be so forward and her body betrays her before her mind can. She doesn't step back, doesn't resist even a little bit as I take hold of her hips, push her against the hand rail and kiss her. I kiss her urgently, nipping and sucking at her bottom lip, coaxing her into responding. I hear her moan, a deep noise from her throat as I kiss her, and this drives me to shove my hand under her blouse and bra and pinch her nipple roughly. She holds on to me like she's gonna fall if she doesn't and bucks her hips into me. I move my hand down, under the band of her sweats and find, despite the fact we've been at it for less than 2 minutes, she's soaking wet again. Last night I didn't go inside her, partly because it was all so overhwelming that I didn't think much about it, but today I don't hesitate as I slip two fingers inside her. She throws her head back and lets out another moan, and I begin to curl my fingers roughly inside her.

Some part of me, I think, knows that I am doing this because the alternative is hearing a list of reasons why this shouldn't be happening, and quite frankly I do not want to hear them. In this moment, I know perfectly well that this is wrong, but I don't care. I don't care that she has a husband and a life, I don't care that it's wrong, I don't care that we should be talking instead of fucking right now. All I care about is our undeniable connection and being as close to her as possible, so I continue shoving into her, curling my fingers into that sweet spot again and again until she comes, hard, clinging to me, and I feel her insides clamp down around my fingers.

Paige pants as she comes down and I disentangle myself from her clothes. Whatever fire has been flaring has, for now, been turned down and my initial anger, or bitterness towards her, disappears. In its place I feel only tenderness, a deep need to not fuck this up. So I kiss her gently, on her lips and her neck, and let her pull away from me. She walks a few steps away and stares into the woods.  


"Paige, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just now." I am starting to feel exhausted from this emotional rollercoaster.

"It's okay, Em. It wasn't just you. I told you last night. I can't think clearly around you," she sounds shaken, upset. I don't know what to do.

"Paige, look at me."

"I can't," she says, but turns around anyway. "don't you see, Em?"

"What?" I think I understand, but there are so many things at play here that I'm not sure which thing she's getting at.

"If I say it out loud, everything will change."

It's such an honest statement, almost innocent, that the response comes from my lips easily.

"Everything's already changed."

She must know that's the truth, that whatever happens now, neither of us can go back to the way we were, not now some of the truth has come out. She looks stricken, and lost, and I don't know what to say to make it better.

"What do you want?" she asks, suddenly. I am confused at first but then leap at the opportunity to finally say to her exactly what I have wanted to say since we were teeanagers.

"You, Paige. I want you. I want you to be honest with me and I want you to make a decision," I say, with a voice as even and calm as I can muster, and then add, even though I know it's not strictly true, "I won't be your bit on the side."

She just nods at me and something in the way she looks, the defiance and purpose in her expression makes me terrified that I just said something incredibly stupid. What if she decides to stay with Sean? The truth is, and I realise this probably makes me a bad person, as long as I am around Paige and she continues to allow this, I probably won't stop pursuing her. I can be kind of self-destructive in my pursuit of what I want and I know I don't have the willpower to leave Paige alone unless she tells me to. But I've said it now, so I am going to have to stick with it. At least I'll get some kind of truth from her.

"Will you be at home, tonight, at around 7?" she asks, as if we are planning a trip to the movies.

"Yes," I say. I'll be anywhere you want me to be, I think.

"Okay, I'll come round at 7 and we can talk."

Paige walks past me and heads into the woods, taking a shortcut back to the carpark. I stand alone, shell-shocked for a while, before making my own way back to the car.

At 7 o'clock tonight, I'll know once and for all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter. There is an Epilogue I am publishing at the same time and this will be the end of it. Thank you to those of you who did bear with me, I know it took a very long time and was slow to start off with. This is the first creative project I have ever actually finished so I am proud of that, for what it's worth.
> 
> Please read and review, I'd like to know what you think.

7pm tonight.

 

It's still not even midday and all I can think about is 7pm tonight. I have no idea how to get through the rest of the day and turn almost into a manic state. I spring clean my bedroom and almost start colour-coding my closet when Spencer calls.

"Hey, Spence. What's up?" I try to sound normal.

"Not a lot. I'm coming home this weekend for a family thing. Want to hang out?"

"Yes, of course." I say, thinking that I may need a friend around to distract me after all.

"Awesome. I'm free all day Sunday, shall we meet for brunch?"

"Yes, at the Brew."

"Okay, 11am. Done. So what's news?" Spencer is chirpy this morning.

I hesitate and mentally toy with the idea of filling her in. This is big news and I know eventually I will tell her all the details, but I am nervous enough as it is and I don't want Spencer putting a downer on the whole thing, even though I was right. Spencer will not take kindly to being flat-out wrong and I think she'll be negative about the whole thing. I am being negative enough about it by myself, so decide to keep my mouth shut on this occasion.

"Oh, nothing really," I lie.

"Mmhmm, Emily, you just took like 30 seconds to think about not telling me something and then you lied to me."

Shit, how does she know? I think and reply, "I can't talk about it right now."

"Hah, I knew it! There's something going on. Tell me," she demands.

"No, I'll tell you on Sunday." I plead.

"Sunday is ages away. I am dying to know," she sounds like she's very bored in Philadelphia today, "Is it juicy?"

I think about last night and this morning, and am so so glad those holographic telephones never took off because I have blushed a deep red. Yes, I think, definitely juicy.

"Sunday, Spencer. I promise," I tell her, using my most stern voice.

"Ugh, you suck, but okay. I will be on the edge of my seat until then."

"Okay."

"Bye Emily, little liar."

"Bye Spencer. See you Sunday," I chirp and hang up. Even that wasn't much of a distraction, since we sort of ended up talking about it, or around it, anyway. And it's given me butterflies in my stomach because someone else, especially Spencer, knowing there's something going on makes it all the more real. As I continue to dwell on what might happen tonight, I hear my mother pottering around in the hall closet. From there, I know she can hear most of what happens in my bedroom and think that that could get real awkward tonight, so I head into the hall to talk to her.

"Mom, what are you and Dad doing this evening?"

"Not much, it's a weeknight. Why?"

I grimace as my brain searches for a way to ask politely.

"So I spoke to Paige, and she said she wants to come over this evening to talk." I venture, as honesty is often the best policy with my parents.

"Ah. You want us to give you some privacy?"

"Is that really rude of me? Coming back into your house and kicking you out?"

"It's your house, too, you know. And while under normal circumstances I wouldn't appreciate being made to leave for your social engagements, I think in this case it's for the best," she looks at me, that wise-mom look on her face and then adds, "besides, your father and I haven't had a nice meal out in a while."

"Thanks, Mom."

"That's okay, just don't make a habit of it," she reaches out, gives me a squeeze and then busies herself with whatever is in the hall closet.

I don't know how I make it through the rest of the day, I think I spend most of it wandering from pointless task to another, just to occupy my hands and brain. But, eventually, blessedly, 6.30pm arrives and my parents head off for dinner. They don't even make a fuss of it, just leave as if I am planning on spending the evening home alone in my jammies. Truth is I have expertly planned what to wear tonight and have settled on a pair of figure-hugging jeans and one of those loose blouses that falls off one of my shoulders. I am told I have killer shoulders, and that I should show them off so that is exactly what I do. But as soon as the door closes, my stomach explodes into butterflies again and the living room seems so eerily quiet that I have to put the television on. It's some rerun of a popular sitcom that finished a few years ago, the sort of thing everyone is familiar with, and I set myself the task of concentrating fully on it. I do this so successfully that I don't hear Paige's car pull up outside, but the moment I hear a knock at the door my nerves return with vengeance.

I open the door with a shaky hand and there's Paige, changed into jeans and a casual sweater, looking awkward and as nervous as I feel. I let her in and then panic as we stand awkwardly in the front hall. Should I invite her into the living room, which seems so cold and formal, or my bedroom, which is my comfortable place and not necessarily the place I want to forever remember as the place Paige dumped me in?

All I manage to say is something along the lines of "Um" before Paige takes the decision into her own hands and heads up the stairs. 

That's a good sign, right? The suspense is killing me.

When we get into my bedroom, she heads straight for the window seat. It has forever been her favourite spot and in a way I can't imagine this conversation, whatever it is, happening anywhere else. I sit down next to her but am careful not to sit close enough to touch her.

"How are you?" I ask. Civility is always necessary. I'm almost Canadian in my commitment to it.

"Nervous as hell. You?" she doesn't seem capable of looking at me, and has taken particular interest in the plank of wood that shows my childhood height chart.

"Pretty much the same."

"Okay," she seems to steel herself and then launches into what she has come here to say, "okay, Emily, you asked for honesty."

She stands up, starts pacing, and the words tumble out of her mouth, "I wrote this letter the night, or morning, before I married Sean. I never intended for you to read it, not really. It was almost to myself instead of anyone else. But, I guess, it's the only way for me to explain and I can't say it out loud, not yet. I can't physically do it. But it's true and you need to know."

She reaches into her back pocket and takes out an envelope, folded and worn with age. She walks over to me and holds it out, and for one wild and insane moment I consider refusing it. My heart is beating so hard and my face feels like it's burning hot and I think my palms are sweaty and I am utterly terrified that this letter won't be good news. But she is handing me the truth, and no amount of self-preservation will stop me from reading it. I reach out and, for just a second, she tugs it back for one last comment.

"Just, read it, will you? The whole thing, before you say anything?"

"Okay," I say, and she lets me take it.

With shaking hands I unwrap it and lay it flat on my lap. I hold it in front of my face and start reading, forcing myself to concentrate on each word and its meaning without rushing to the end.

_Dear Emily,_

_It's 7 years since I last saw you and it's 4 in the morning and for once in my life I have decided to be honest. I probably won't send this; you probably would never forgive me even if you read it so there's no point. But I'm going to spend the rest of my life lying so tonight, for once, for the first and last time, I am going to be honest._

_If I could go back in time to one moment in my life and change it I know the exact moment I would return to. You were lying on the couch with me in Hanna's living room while she was upstairs fooling around with Caleb. I was lying next to you, looking, yearning, terrified. At 16 I didn't know that the worst that could happen by taking a chance was that I would be rejected – it never occurred to me that not taking the chance and losing you would be worse than an awkward moment of rejection. I should have kissed you when we were alone. It was the perfect opportunity for it; we even seemed to have a jolt of connection that I was sure you felt. I looked at your eyes, glanced down at your lips and the opportunity hung there in the inches between our faces. I thought you might have known what I was thinking or perhaps you could hear the drums in my head but I was such a coward. I was always such a coward._

_What would you have done if I had kissed you? Would you have kissed me back just for the hell of it? Or would you have rejected me? Or maybe you would have kissed me back because this thing I felt was as real for you as it was for me._

_From the moment I saw you when we were 12, from the moment I recognised in you what was in me, I was yours. There has never been anyone else for me. But I was so scared and I am still scared and I didn't know how to be brave. Maybe I would have admitted it eventually but then Maya came along and my emotions were such a jumbled mix of confusion and jealousy that I couldn't figure out how to deal with it and in the end all I could do was push you away. I couldn't tell you the truth because you seemed so into Maya and on top of being terrified of telling the truth, I was sure you'd reject me. So sure that you'd prefer Maya and I lashed out and I'm so sorry because hurting you like that was the worst thing I have ever done. And so I made it into something it wasn't, I pretended to be homophobic because it was easier than trying to compete with someone who had so obviously stolen your heart._

_I wish I had fought harder for you. You fought for me in the weeks after – you begged me to be your friend again but I couldn't handle it. I hated seeing you with her, hated that you were brave and she was brave and I was a coward and most of all I hated that she got to kiss you and I never would. I missed my chance, I know that, but now I just want to be honest._

_So now it's 4.30am and the last thing I have to say is the truth. It's the only truth that has ever existed for me and after I say it, I'm going to bury it and carry on with the life I am supposed to lead. But I have to say it once because all it's doing inside me is growing and festering and I feel like I'm going to burst from it._

_So here goes._

_I love you, Emily Fields. I always have. I always will._

_And I am so sorry._

"You always will?" I ask when I finish reading it and look up to find her watching me.

She doesn't even need to reply. There's a startling honesty in her expression that says it all, but even as I know it deep down, she brings it right up to the surface and answers.

"Yes."


	11. Epilogue

We make love again, slowly this time and something in Paige shifts. I find myself on my back being ravished again. It's not desperate like last time but relaxed, like Paige knows this is the first of many times to come. It's intense, yes, but with a sort of familiarity that comes from truly knowing and loving someone. And, gosh, for someone who has been in the closet for so long, she sure seems to know what she's doing. By the time she makes me come for the third time I am so overwhelmed I almost pass out, and once again we fall asleep in each other's arms.

We wake up in the early hours and go downstairs to speak in hushed voices in the kitchen. Paige knows what she has to do and I know how hard this must be for her. She does care about Sean, and while we both feel guilty for the hurt we know he'll feel, we also know that he deserves more than a lie. He deserves someone who really loves him, and Paige shouldn't stand in the way of him finding that. So it's with a heavy but determined heart that she leaves to go speak to him.

While she's gone I explain the whole situation to my parents, both of them together, and ask if they mind Paige staying for a few weeks while she gets back on her feet. My mother seems conflicted at first, as she doesn't want to celebrate Sean's sadness, but she can't seem to stop herself getting excited at the prospect of having Paige as her daughter-in-law. It occurs to me several times during this conversation that I may have the best parents in the world.

Naturally Paige is a total mess when she returns. She comes back with a suitcase and a backpack and falls apart. But it's me she turns to, me she embraces when she feels like a real slimeball, and it doesn't take her long to remark on how right it all feels now.

And then, quite without warning, as we are snuggling against each other on the window seat in the afternoon sun, she says it out loud.  


"I love you," she whispers, sure and steady.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things don't happen slowly after that. We find an apartment in Philadelphia and move in together. We buy pots and pans and spend afternoons looking at bed linen in Ikea. She tells me all of her deepest and darkest secrets, including the series of events that lead to her marrying Sean in the first place. She tells me about the regular and routine pressure her father put on her as we were growing up, especially after I came out, to live a certain way, and the expectations he had. She tells me about college and the guys she tried to date then. About how they were all, in some way, a little bit like me and that was why they were never right. She tells me her thought process when she started dating Sean, who is nothing at all like me, and how her guilt over her feelings for me and her father dying worked together to make her jump head first into a marriage she knew wasn't going to make her happy.

She becomes the Paige I knew when we were young, but also a new Paige, a Paige with a purpose, a Paige with freedom. It looks good on her. She takes up a business class and I put her in touch with some of the carpenters I know. She starts whittling in her spare time. We spend our weekends lying in bed, naked, wrapped up in each other. We spend other weekends getting covered in flour in the kitchen as we figure out neither of us is very good at baking. We find out that both of us is very good at sex, at least with each other. Paige finds out that I snore when I have a cold. I very much enjoy telling Spencer the whole story, especially the bit about how I was right after all.

Things are hard, at times, especially when the divorce proceedings start and the reality of what Paige did to Sean come back to the surface. But we come out of them stronger, more together, and before long we find out Sean is dating someone new anyway.

Time passes and I find a job. It's working in a community cafe which runs a youth drop-in centre as a sort of waitress-guidance counsellor-manager type role, and it turns out to exactly suit me. It's not a lot of money but we get by.

I think regularly about the route we took to get here. The pain and the deceit and the idiotic way we both behaved when we were children. I think about honesty, and the surprises life gives you along the way. I think about what we could have done differently to end up here, earlier, and settle on the idea that this happened the way it did because for us there was no other way. 

And I think that I am lucky, I am blessed. I would not change a single thing because if I did I might not be where I am today, watching TV on a Sunday afternoon and holding her in my arms.


End file.
